Ellie Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
by Siltor
Summary: Ellie Alice Potter, the little sister of the Boy-Who-Lived, joins him at Hogwarts for a first year filled with a half-mad house elf, an enchanted diary, and narcissistic professors. How would a sister to care change the chosen one and events of canon?


Ellie Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

A/N: This is an AU story that I plan, maybe too ambitiously, to continue through all the Harry Potter books. I will go off canon but most of the big events will stay in tact until Harry's fifth year and Ellie's fourth.

Disclaimer: I do not and have never owned Harry Potter blah, blah, blah…

I will try to post something weekly and see how that goes. I may need to make it a bimonthly posting come the end of August when I start college again.

Read, review, enjoy, and please no flames about grammar errors. I realize I'm not a grammar genius and I don't have a beta reader at the moment so there might be some mistakes. It's amazing how much you can still miss and after reading your own work five times. Grammar snobs and their brethren you have been warned.

I am looking for a beta reader. If anyone is interested leave me a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks, Siltor

Ellie's Sorcerers' Stone: The Time Away From Harry & The Return Part 1

The Time Away From Harry

Ellie Alice Potter sprawled on her stomach in the dark cupboard; she had barely finished her chores today, which had been, as always, more than can be expected of any fully functioning individual. The fact that Ellie had yet to reach her eleventh birthday made the accomplishment an amazing, some people might even say magical, feat.

Magical, that had more truth than Ellie would ever admit to her relatives. She never meant to use her magic, sometimes when the time to finish cleaning crept to closer and the long list of chores still remained undone, she would panic and the magic would bleed from her leaving whatever she was cleaning pristine, the chore done, and Ellie with a bone deep exhaustion that made it difficult to function. If they knew she used her unnaturalness to clean their house…she winced and burrowed her head under her pillow, trying to hide from the thought. They wouldn't care that she hadn't meant to, that she never meant to use magic; all that mattered was that she had.

She stiffened, Dudley's old blanket scratched against her legs. She listened, not breathing, as loud steps clattered down the stairs, with each steps dust rained down from the ceiling, as it always did when Vernon and Dudley clambered down the stairs. A part of her suspected that the dust was magical in origin, triggered anytime one of the heavier Dursleys stepped onto the stairs. It started around her fourth birthday and has continued long after one would suspect the stairs would run out of dust, she hoped the supply of dust never ended, she liked being aware when the Dursleys wandered near her cupboard. The dust continued for five seconds after the last step creaked, Ellie inhaled harshly through clenched teeth as the floorboards groaned under Vernon's weight, the sound moved toward her. The loud footsteps came to a stop outside the white door of her cupboard; she lay still, willing the person on the other side to continue walking. Please, walk, walk, walk. The words rolled through her head like a chant.

Ellie waited, her whole body clenched, the chant continued in her head: walk, walk, no one's here, walk. She could hear the doorknob turn. The door didn't open. Instead the footsteps, moved away from her cupboard, towards the kitchen.

Before Ellie could hold it back a sob of relief slipped past her lips. Ellie figured the relief was only temporary; she had five minutes at the least, fifty at most before Vernon would return to her door. She pulled her head out from under her pillow and flopped it onto the lumpy cotton. A big lump dug into her right cheek, as it rested against the worn fabric. She closed her eyes, and began to prepare for her summons.

It was never a good sign when her relatives visited her after hours—after hours defined as anytime after Vernon dragged his whale of a body across the threshold of the house at night after work—in the past, an encounter with her uncle often left her a bloody, painful mess. These days, Vernon was paranoid enough by his decision to move her back to the cupboard that had been her room before the owl fiasco; she wouldn't be surprised if an accidental touch as they walked down the Dursleys' hallway might just cause Vernon to keel over. She vanished the thought the creak of returning footsteps reached her ears. No more time and no room in her head for rebellious thoughts. The door creaked open as she struggled to dismiss the vision of Vernon unmoving on the floor of Petunia's sparkling kitchen. As the light poured in, she remembered Vernon driving his fist into her gut. She had been eight. He said he wouldn't tolerate that look on her face, said her knew what she was thinking, that he wouldn't tolerate being insulted in any form in his house. Her crime then had been bad thoughts. Since then she tried not to give him reason to believe that she thought ill of him—not that it helped.

Vernon didn't need an excuse to punish her. He could hit her, and often did, anytime he wanted in the safety of his own insipid home. He usually justified the action to himself in whatever self-serving way he could conjure with his depleted imagination, after all he didn't hit children for no good reason, he wasn't a monster like those freaks.

"Get out here, girl," Vernon growled gripping the door with whitened fingers.

She knew he wanted to add some insult to the end of her title—freak or possibly bastard—but he didn't, terrified that the house had been bugged. A week after they had dropped Harry off at the station, she overheard Vernon explaining to Petunia, "Course they'd bug the house. That lot have no concept of common decency. They're… They're-," For lack of a better term, he fell back on years of practice, roaring the word, "Freaks."

Aunt Petunia shooshed him, ringing long, bony fingers together.

Not to be deterred, Vernon continued shouting, "Do you hear me? I know you're listening, you gits."

Petunia pulled aside the rose patterned curtains to peer out the kitchen window. She craned her long neck to achieve the proper spying position—not that she would call such action by such a vulgar term, she didn't spy, it was her duty to keep an eye out for any unnaturalness and drive the affected individuals from the neighborhood. Upon seeing some nosy neighbor, probably Mrs. Number 5 across the street who also took part in the cleansing of the neighborhood, she called out in a voice abnormally high from fear and desperation, "So sorry, our niece left the T.V. on too loud again. The dear child isn't all there, if you know what I mean… we thought she was improving but I'm afraid with her brother at St. Brutus she's losing it more and more. I must go before she poisons herself again." Petunia tittered uneasily, "The last time I left her alone she swallowed a whole bottle of anti-freeze. I'm afraid we'll have to send her to St. Joan's Institution for Incurably Insane Girls if things don't improve." She slammed the open window shut and jerked the curtains together.

Thank goodness it was Mrs. Number 5, Petunia thought. Mrs. Number 5 no doubt realized that Petunia's poorly concealed lie was in fact a lie, but 5 would also know that Petunia knew she knew about the lie. Mrs. Number 5 wouldn't breath a word about the weird goings on to Mrs. Number 6, 7, 8, or 12, the other individuals who took part in the patrolling of the filth, because 5 also knew that she knew about the handy man that had entered the house after Mr. Number 5 exited it for a weekend business trip. Yes, 5 wouldn't say a word, especially after Petunia dropped hints about the handy man at the next tea party she was planning to attend on Tuesday.

Things had gradually disintegrated from there. A week later, Vernon had marched Ellie from the smallest room in the house, his grip on her arm cutting off her circulation. He stormed down the stairs, Ellie stumbling behind.

"To trick the monitors," he had explained, a few moments before the exodus from a proper room unfit for freaks. "These folk, they have this unnaturalness about them, but they're all as dumb as dirt. The men go around wearing dresses for Pete's sake. They might have barely enough intelligence to lay down the bugs but their devil powers aren't as good as our technology." He shook his head vigorously, brown mustache flying. He reached up with two giant fingers and smoothed down the brown hairs, "They have gaps in their surveillance. We move fast and talk in whispers and they won't know what's happening."

That's when he raced across the room and dragged Ellie from the bed, maneuvering Ellie a little too violently through the small house. She fell down the last three steps, banged her head against the corner of the hallway, and finally ran into the cupboard door as Vernon jerked it open.

Truthfully, Ellie didn't mind the change at first; it made her uneasy to sleep so close to her aunt and uncles' room. At least in the cupboard she would receive a warning and be ready when they dragged her out of the room by her red hair.

Three weeks her return to the cupboard, once Vernon and Petunia were positive that the freaks were unaware of the change in Ellie's sleeping arrangements, the chores which Petunia had been struggling to complete unsuccessfully on her own were once again foisted onto Ellie's shoulders.

Ellie fell into a routine for the next two weeks. Up at five to cook breakfast for her relatives, school at seven-twenty, home at one-thirty, work till' five twenty-seven, make dinner, take one minute shower, then she was frog marched through the house as Petunia surveyed what Ellie had managed to clean with icy brown eyes. She would note what chores hadn't been completed, make a list and present it to Vernon, who would look it over from his place in front of the tele, grunt and mumble off some punishment. This usually involved taking the light bulb from the cupboard and sending her to sit in the oppressive darkness until morning, when she would start the sequence of events over again, absurdly happy, if only because it meant she could escape the dark that terrified her.

If Harry were here, sharing the no light punishment she wouldn't be as afraid. His light breathing and her head against the gap between his shoulder blades would assure her that she wasn't alone, even though her weak eyes told her another story. She would rest easily through the night, knowing that he would protect her from the monsters that came from the dark, just as she knew that she would—though paralyzed by fear—force herself to do the same. Unfortunately, Harry was gone. He was at a school surrounded by their kind. It would be months until he returned. Until then she was horribly, terribly, truly alone for the first time in her life. Sometimes when the darkness pressed into her from all sides she wondered how she would be brave without him. At those times, it was hard to believe life at Hogwarts could be any better.

Despite the hours of chores that she now had to do on top of her schoolwork, Petunia still found the whole situation unsatisfying. As far as she was concerned she still had to work far too much for her liking, even with Ellie helping, Petunia still found herself cleaning for hours when she could be doing better things with her time, like having tea parties. When she brought the topic up at dinner it was decided in another hushed conversation that Ellie would no longer go to school and spend her entire day cleaning.

"Think about it, " Vernon said that night over dinner, which Ellie was only allowed to attend because Vernon was positive that they had magicked the chair to keep track of Ellie's eating habits, "These folks are dumb." He waved a buffalo wing in Ellie's direction as proof. Ellie didn't react, far too use to them talking about her in front of her. "They don't care about education and bettering themselves—have you ever heard of one of their lot attending Oxford? Of course not." He slammed his fist on the table, knocking over Petunia's glass of water. Petunia sighed and mopped up the water with the napkin Ellie was about to wipe her face with.

Vernon said, "Sorry muppet. But you must admit it's true. Your no good sister and her deadbeat husband didn't attend a school of higher education. If they don't care about education I don't see why we need to waste money and time for the girl—." Once again, he jabbed the wing in her direction. Then he continued as if he had never stopped, "—to attend school. She's never going to use the information anyway, not with all her devil worshipping."

The next day, Petunia spent an hour of her time, something she complained about bitterly to her husband over dinner that night, withdrawing Ellie from school. During that hour Ellie cleaned both the bathrooms. Over dinner, Ellie hunched over her mashed potatoes, eyes continually slipping closed, potatoes winking out of sight, too exhausted to listen to Vernon's paranoid rants about her lot.

Ellie blinked, dragged back to the present, reeling as she tried to make sense of Vernon's order. "Get out her girl now." When he grunted like a bull and moved to pull her bodily from the closet, she scurried to obey, slipping under his grasping hand. As she straightened, Vernon clipped her across the head with one meaty fist. Ellie winced and forced herself not to clutch at her head. Clearly he believed that the bugs had stopped working or some other similar thing. Ellie held back a gulp; these new circumstances did not bode well for her. Vernon jerked his head towards the living room, momentarily resembling the bobble head her old teacher, Mr. Tire, had on his desk at school. He waited for her to follow the silent order before following behind, panting from his effort to keep up with Ellie's quick pace in order to step on the back of her heels, which he did repeatedly.

Petunia stood at the window, she peered outside as Ellie came to a stop just inside the doorway. Vernon rammed into Ellie from behind. Ellie fell hard, her face momentarily squashed against the carpet. Moving fast, before Vernon could 'accidentally' kick her, she pushed herself to a crouch, watching Vernon warily. He didn't look inclined to kick her, though he sent her a cold look through his beady eyes, momentarily reminding her of a boar she saw on the tele at school. The boar had chased the cameraman for a mile before losing interest and wandering off, no doubt searching for easier prey…like Ellie.

Ellie knew she was easy prey. Ellie, at 3'9" was shorter than the majority of her classmates back when she attended public school. She was painfully thin, now that Vernon had been scared into feeding her at every meal; she had some fat on her. She had knobby knees, skin so pale she wouldn't be surprised if someone mistook her for a vampire, and long red hair that she threw back in a pony tail before starting in on her chores for the day. She liked her hair; sometimes she wished she could have both the red hair and the ability to blend into her surroundings. Her hair stood out like a beacon. Everyone noticed her—teachers, bullies, and worst of all the Dursleys. Hagrid, the large man who escorted Harry and her to Diagon Alley last August, mentioned that she looked like her mother and Harry looked like their father. Harry didn't have their father's hazel eyes though; instead his like Ellie's were a bright green.

Ellie rose from the crouch slowly, her movements precise, designed not to produce any sudden movements that drew the eye. Once standing, she hunched over and backed up one slow step at a time until her back hit the wall. The wall. Any animal who is used to being chased by bigger, stronger and more blood-thirsty animals would tell you—if they could talk—that the wall was both a blessing and a curse. It removed oneself from the immediate action and line of sight but when discovered against it, it limited the range of motion making it harder to escape unscathed.

"Petunia," Vernon said. Petunia didn't answer; instead she opened the window and leaned out, craning her head further to the right.

"I knew it," she whispered, voice taking on a higher pitch from glee. "Mr. Number 5 is home early this time. Give me a minute Vernon. The pool boy is still inside." Petunia's voice quivered with excitement.

Ellie felt herself relax. As bad as she felt for Mr. Number 5, Mrs. Number 5, and the pool boy, she felt relief that the dramatics would give Petunia something to focus on. When Petunia had good gossip to pass around to her neighbors, she was happy. When she was happy, Vernon and Petunia tended to be more reasonable and less prone to violent actions against Ellie. If she was lucky, Ellie would go to bed with only one new bruise, the one forming on her head from Vernon's previous punch. Ellie felt the tension leave her. She straightened, her muscles, which had been prepared to flee, relaxed. She let herself lean against the wall.

Yelling could be heard from across the street. Mr. Number 5, Ellie catalogued. A shriek: Mrs. Number 5, the yelling, the screaming, the breaking of unknown objects, it continued on for more then five minutes. It ended as quickly as it began. The door slammed. An engine started. The car pulled away.

"Can we make this quick Vernon? I want to go over and check to see if Mrs. Grits, or should I say the former Mrs. Grits, is ok."

Ellie highly doubted that she cared about the well being of Mrs. Grits. She, no doubt, only desired to be the first on the scene so she could be the first to call the neighbors and spread the dreadfully delightful news with a special portion of inside scoop.

He nodded at his wife, cast her an adoring look before licking his fat lips. Without looking at Ellie, he said, "Dudders will be home tomorrow. Move back into the Dudley's toy room for the summer." He jerked his eyes over to her for the first time and stalked forward coming to a halt a foot away from her. He leaned in before continuing, "If I hear even the slightest whisper about where you spent the year I will make you regret it. I'll beat you so hard not even your lot will be able to put back the pieces. Think Humpty Dumpty and think hard." The last few words came out with a shower of spit. She remained glued to the wall; it was all she could do to bob her head in agreement.

Vernon smiled, "Now off to your room. Your aunt and I are off to see the Grits."

Ellie scurried away, eyes on Vernon and back glued to the wall. Once she was out of grabbing distance, she ran from the room, up the stairs, and into the smallest bedroom of Privet Drive. Ellie stood in the center of the room surrounded on all sides by broken and worn out toys, momentarily safe among Dudley's rejects.

The Return: Part 1

A week after Dudley returned from school, Ellie still couldn't walk down the hallway without seeing Dudley's fleeing behind. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't shake the image of Dudley with a tail. It made it hard to look at him with a straight face.

Ellie hadn't been sure what to expect from Dudley. She spent a sleepless night in the lumpiest bed at Privet Drive, running over possible scenarios. How would Dudley act? Like last August, fleeing from the very sight of her as if she had leprosy or some magical equivalent? Or would he revert back to the old Dudley-Potter routine that involved bullying, ridicule, and pain? She knew which one she wanted—the one without any form of pain.

After much debate, she concluded that she would just have to wait and see how Dudley acted and then act accordingly. If he reverted to Bully Dudley, she would try to keep out of his way, which basically entailed hiding as much as possible until Dudley became bored of searching for her. This would prove difficult, in fact, she thought, it may well be impossible. Her chores meant that her routine was pathetically predictable. All Dudley needed to do is wander around the house until he heard scrubbing and there she would be elbow deep in soap as she cleaned Vernon's car. An easy target. On the other hand, if Dudley couldn't overcome his fear and the trauma of growing a tail, she sniggered, if he continued to act like a scared rat, she wouldn't have to try to hide. It would be better not to. If she broadcast that she feared the rat, he might discover that he had sharp teeth and night vision and start in on the Dudley-Potter routine before the other Potter returned.

Whatever happened on the Dudley front, all she needed to do is survive eight days without Harry's support. Once Harry returned everything would be better. She would be able to lean on him and he would do the same for her. They would survive the summer and then they would depart, together this time, until next summer. Months without the Dursleys. Ellie sighed, smiling despite her previous worry, finally something to celebrate. As she imagined the party she would throw upon gaining her temporary freedom, she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning at six, Ellie dragged herself from her bed to start breakfast. After breakfast, under Petunia's close supervision, Ellie cleaned Dudley's room for the seventh time that week. As she crawled under the bed with the duster, Ellie could hear Petunia breathing through her mouth. Every few moments Petunia would mutter some food item she, or to be more precisely Ellie, would make for Petunia's Dinky Dumdum's return feast.

Petunia seemed determined to offer Dudley more food than Smelting's would in an entire month. Over the year Petunia fretted about how her Dudders might not be eating enough. How even now he might be starving, this said as Ellie stared at the piece of chicken the size of a golf ball, slightly burned mash potatoes, and a piece of bread. Somehow Ellie thought Dudley would be fine; she never dared to tell Petunia that though.

Ten o'clock saw the Dursleys and Ellie packed into the car on their way to pick up Dudley from the station. Petunia wore a pink dress that fell to her knees. She spent a half an hour in front of the mirror in her bathroom curling he hair while complaining about how she had no time to curl her hair properly. Since Petunia had been forced to spend hours supervising the cleaning of Dudder's room, clearly the lack of time was Ellie's fault.

Ellie stared out the window in an effort to drown out Petunia's shrill voice.

"I told her countless times to clean that room. Did she do it? No, of course not. Why did we get stuck with such an inobedient niece?"

Vernon caressed the steering wheel of the car with his thumb, "Don't know dear, if she were Marge's we wouldn't have these problems."

Marge with a daughter, Ellie shuddered. A Mini-Marge: a new and improved, fatter and more vindictive, and more slovenly than ever version. Somehow she doubted Mini-Marge would find time to clean between training bloodthirsty dogs, baiting Ellie, and ingesting food. She doubted this fatter version of Marge could crawl under the bed and dust.

Ellie tilted her head away from the front of the car and pulled her arm in front of her face to hide her disgusted grimace.

"Don't touch that window with your grubby fingers," Vernon barked.

Ellie dropped her arm to her side and looked towards the front of the car. She could see Vernon's bulging eyes glaring at her from the rear view mirror. After a moment, she looked away and went back to watching the passing traffic. She could feel Vernon's suspicious gaze on her the rest of the drive.

Vernon pulled into the busy parking lot of King's Cross Station.

Ten minutes later, Ellie stood slightly apart from the Dursleys, waiting for Dudley's train to come in. Every few seconds, Petunia peered over at her suspiciously, as if Ellie would whip out a secret wand and start attacking passerby's with it at any second. Ellie didn't breath easily until Dudley's train pulled into the station and began to unload. Petunia, clutched at Vernon's pudgy arm, Ellie forgotten in her excitement.

Ellie saw Dudley first. He waddled into view, his now beach ball sized behind shaking from side to side with each step. His trolley trailed behind him, seemingly moving on it's own. Dudley blanched when he saw Ellie waiting; he staggered to a stop, face white. The trolley plowed into him from behind. Dudley stumbled forward, his massive arms pin wheeled. He caught himself and turned, fear forgotten. Then his voice filled the station.

"You little shit. You did that on purpose. You think because we're not at school you can treat me without respect. Not on my watch."

As Dudley waddled around the now shaking trolley, Vernon beamed with pride and Petunia smiled fondly.

"That's my boy," Vernon confided in a young thin couple a few feet away.

"Vernon," Petunia sniffled, "He's more handsome than I remember."

Meanwhile, Dudley had a short, blond haired boy in both meaty fists. Dudley shook the boy every few moments as he continued his tirade. Just as the boy looked like he would burst into tears, Dudley dropped him and continued on his way, positive that the boy would follow behind.

When Dudley reached his mother and father, Petunia cried out, "My dinky dudders." She burst into tears and threw herself on Dudley. As Dudley was occupied, the trolley came to a stop behind him and the blond boy shot off.

Vernon watched as Petunia clung to their son for a few moments, smiling with pride. Dudley had grown. A child had left last August and now a man returned to them. When Dudley started to squirm in his mother's grip, Vernon smiled indulgently and pried Petunia's arms from the boy.

He gave Dudley a manly handshake. The shake was weak, his son's hand limp and soft as a babies; Vernon ignored that inconsequential fact. He smiled proudly down at his son. "Welcome home son," he said gruffly. "Let's go home."

With that the Dursley's strolled out of the station; Vernon pushed the trolley and Ellie, the unwanted addition, followed behind.

Dudley didn't acknowledge Ellie until she climbed into the back seat of the car. As she put on her seatbelt, Dudley squeaked in fright, his hand shot to his fat bottom. The first car ride home for Dudley Dursley was spent in frightened silence with the entire weight of his massive body squashing his hands.

The day of Harry's return, the scene at Kings Cross Station was like one of those in a fun house mirrors. There were similarities to Dudley's return from Smeltings, the people for example. Vernon and Petunia stood together as Ellie hovered a few feet away. Petunia, like before, peered at Ellie every few moments to make sure no nasty magic came from her niece. Like a fun house mirror, the scene distorted. Today, Petunia not only peered at Ellie with suspicious eyes, she cast her suspicious gaze out at the people that passed their group, as she tried to pick out the unnatural beings from the normal ones. Dudley was also different. Instead of waiting for him, he unsuccessfully hid behind his mother; his massive bulk peeked out from on both sides of Petunia's slim form.

Another difference happened to be the atmosphere around the group. Annoyance, fear, and anger came from the Dursleys instead of the excitement that bled off them the previous time. Ellie, for once, smiled as she gazed at the wall between stations 9 and 10. She couldn't wait until Harry came out.

She watched eagerly as a red headed women and child slipped through the wall, the girl chatted and bounced eagerly as she slipped through.

Ellie stepped forward eagerly, not able to wait out in the muggle station any longer. She made it three steps before she jerked backwards. Vernon towered over her, his hand dug painfully into her arm.

She looked up at his red face, his mustache quivered as he hissed, "Where do you think you're going?"

Ellie licked her lips nervously; she had to put this just right if she wanted to get through the barrier. "Off to fetch Harry." When he still looked murderous and not inclined to withdraw his tight grip on her arm, she continued, each word carefully run through her head, before she let it past her lips, "I thought. I thought if I went to get him, I could tell him to hurry up. You know, so we can go back to Privet Drive." She ended with the sentence she knew would seal the deal, even though they fell from her tongue like burning ash, "away from the freaks."

His face gradually lost the magenta hue as he spoke. He released her arm; her arm hurt a lot. She knew it would probably bruise but she'd deal with that later. For now, she watched Vernon as he rubbed his fingertips over his mustache, smoothing it down. "We'd still be with freaks," he said to himself.

Ellie spoke up again, "Yes, but two is better than dozens."

"That's true," he mumbled. He stopped mid-stroke and shot her a suspicious look. "Guess even animals get things right sometimes."

She tried to ignore the part about animals, it wasn't important now.

"Well, get on then," Vernon waved a hand towards the barrier, "get a move on and make it quick."

As she walked away she couldn't get the picture from her head of her cowering away from Vernon. Like an animal. You would think by now, she told herself, that things they say wouldn't bother you. Grow a thicker skin, for God's sake. Animals have thicker skin, another part of her brain supplied as she strolled towards the wall.

She cast one last look back at the Dursleys. They clustered together. For the moment the magical world was forgotten and they laughed. Vernon pounded Dudley on the back. Petunia looked on with pride. Clearly, they were happier without her.

As she passed through the barrier, the last thought that passed through her mind was, what if Harry was happier without her too? What if he didn't want her anymore?


End file.
